King Evrin Dax stood at the edge of the west-facing terrace, where dusk painted the sky in shades of bronze and blood, and the early summer breeze whispered through the velvet drapes. The terrace was framed by carved sandstone pillars, gilded at their crowns and draped in dark green silk.
Behind him, the palace of Saha rose in domes layered with blackstone and gold filigree, balconies crowned with traceried latticework, and arches resting on thick columns of ivory marble veined with copper. Wide walkways ran between suspended gardens and quiet fountains, their echo softened by courtyards designed to mute every sound except footsteps and declarations.
It was a city within a city, strategically elevated and surrounded by terraces that opened into formal chambers, long galleries, and private halls meant for negotiations dressed as dinners and wars that began with etiquette.
